Kyou's Sadness
by FadingIndigoShadow
Summary: This is something I needed to write. Violence, upsetting. Kyou discovers what it means to be accepted. I hope.
1. Chapter 1

Kyou kept to the darkest streets. He longed for rain – to feel it drenching him, tiring the demon inside. Anything to take his mind away from that smell – burnt flesh. Don't think of it. Don't breathe in, not yet. Not until you can think of something else. Even now, his hand felt red hot with pain, but there was no mark to justify it. Not a scratch, not on this body. He steered away from the brightly lit town center, heading instead for the back alleys. Perhaps he would be mugged, or knifed. However unlikely, he clung to the idea. Let's see what I still have to lose.

There was a foul taste in his mouth. He imagined Yuki's reaction: "You stupid cat! Don't you realise what could have happened? You idiot!" He brushed the idea away angrily – as if the rat gave a damn. As if anything mattered any more. Even so, the thought haunted him. Even if he was nothing, to Yuki or anyone else, her heart would still be too big. She would still be hurt if she heard of his recklessness. _I don't care. I don't care._ He followed the alley up until he reached the old railway bridge, the tracks a snake beneath. The stone edge was cold.

The smell of dusk was over him now. Time stretched out: he counted the steps of passers by. Careless shoppers, thugs, lonely girls. They were all the same. All strangers.

He could imagine Tohru's voice: coaxing him, comforting. What would her real reaction be, once she knew that he had wondered so long in this mad city?

_ What did you expect?_ He thought, each word a hammer against his skull. He was repulsed and excited by the pain. _That I would be the same? That it wouldn't matter what I thought, the crazy, stinking cat? That you could act as if you cared, without destroying me? What did you think?_

He tried to feel a different emotion. He tried to be grateful – even if he had been drowning surer than ever before, at least he believed he was carried by an angel. How could he begrudge her that? He had felt so happy. He had thought that perhaps he was was healing – that one day it might have a heart again, might become something brighter and braver. So much more than he deserved. And that was the truth of it: too good to be true. The delusions of a drowning man.

"What's this? A Lost cat?"

Him! The pain was crippling. Kyou's breath was ragged from it; he couldn't speak. How could he look at Yuki now? Even his name was a knife. Kyou felt his face darken with shame and self hate. And what was this? That the rat. . . pitied him. Had come to find him. Of course he did. The rat was perfect. Perfect yuki for perfect, perfect Tohru. How could he ever think that he could be part of that? That there were three of them. How stupid, how pathetic that seemed now. When the two of them were so happy together. He had finally proved Akito right: there was nothing that the cat couldn't ruin. Even the two people that he loved most in the world: he couldn't let them be happy. Couldn't, wouldn't. Useless words for a useless cat.

"Don't. Come back, Kyou."

Ah, so that was what Yuki was afraid of. He thought Kyou was here to jump. He had opened his mouth to reassure him before he properly thought about it. What an idea. To end it: here, now. Was that why he had come here, in truth? Even when consciously the idea hadn't crossed his mind? Leaving, that was his first plan. There was nothing left for him here. But then, why should there be anything anywhere else? Who was he, to go to a new place – to meet new people, to hurt other lives. It would be better if he could go nowhere at all. And so he had wandered, aimlessly. But here was a solution. He pictured it: tumbling through the air, with nothing to stop him, nothing left to tie him back. One crack as the body fell onto the track. Perhaps it would be finished off by a passing train. He smiled at the thought of the pain: at least he would get one thing he deserved. Such a sweet way to die.

"Kyou?"

One hard shove, that was all. He braced his arms and pushed away from the ledge, waiting for the end.

The end never came. One strong arm pulled him backwards in a smooth motion. Kyou tried feebly to fight, but then Yuki was always the strongest. The tears came now, finally. The tears he had longed to cry every day since he proved himself a monster. Shed on the arms of his enemy, of his rival, of the one he had hurt too much to ever be forgiven. Shed on the arms of his best friend.

"Kyou!!! Kyou! Why did you do that? Why did you do that, Kyou?"

The shock of seeing the prince so dishevelled, so wild, rendered him speechless. Yuki reached around to embrace him, or to punch him. He flinched away – he couldn't act like that any more, as if he was worthy of those arms, as if Yuki had to touch someone like him. A monster. He tried to explain that, but it became a mumble.

"Don't do that to me, kyou! Don't **ever** do that to me!"

What?

Not, "you could make her very unhappy" (lies, she was better off without him) or "I don't want to have to clear up your mess". Don't do that to me. As if. . .

"You actually care," He finished quietly. Yuki drew back, surprised, elegant even though there was dirt on his shirt.

"Yes. I care. We care. Don't leave us."

Kyou felt his heart ready to soar. He wasn't strong enough to lock it away, wasn't smart enough even now to think of the hurt that was coming. _You are nothing to them! Nothing to anybody,_ He reminded himself, but there was a stronger voice. "Don't leave us." Could it be possible? That all along, he had been right. . . that after all, they were his friends – his best friends. That when he had explained everything to her, all of his hurt, all of his experiences – she had really been listening? That she hadn't forgotten him the moment she climbed down from that roof? That she. . .

"But. . . I deserve this! Don't you see, you stupid rat? Don't you remember what I did?"

The memory, this time, was too strong to fight away. He let it overtake him.

The room was too crowded, too full. Yuki lay on the cold floor, lifting his arms tiredly to defend himself. Even that seemed to be too much effort for him.

Get up! He wanted to shout at him. Get up! How can you be beaten like this, how can you be so helpless? Shigure, Kureno, someone. . . but there was no one. No one to save them.

Akito span, snarling at Kyou, shouting.

"You! Kick him! Kick him now!"

He couldn't understand. He couldn't do anything. Akito! How could someone you loved be so cruel?

"Gah!"

He wasn't fast enough for Akito, even if he was brave enough to resist. She snatched his hand and slammed it down in the fireplace, straight onto the embers. He screamed, not from pain but confusion and fear. Akito's face was distorted, crazy. Was there anything Yuki could have done to deserve this rage? He knew the answer even when the curse was clouding his thoughts, denying it.

His hand was on fire now. Its shape was distorted by the smoke that the fireplace coughed up, the skin becoming more liquid – it terrified him. The pain was unbearable, merciless. His throat was too constricted and tear filled to do any more than croak – he did so, an animal keening. Akito shouted more and more, slapping his face with her other hand. He felt desperate from the pain, crazy.

Through the fog of fear, he saw Yuki's lips move. The words were impossible, yet they made perfect sense. They were the only thing that could have saved him.

"Do it."

Even the memory made Kyou cough. He had lashed out in a moment of pain and madness; the worst moment of his life. And Yuki's face haunted him like the black bird of fate. There was no way to escape it, waking of sleeping. That face, clenched in pain, spattered in blood – Yuki's blood? His? What had he done?- was more torment than Akito could ever have planned. Even as Akito rushed to his darling Yuki's side, allowed Kyou to crumple into that helpless heap and cradle his agonising hand, screeching about fault and blame and monsters. Even as he pointed so imperiously down at Kyou's figure - "Look what you've done! Look, you monster! You attacked him!".

"How. . . could you ever accept me. . . after that?"

Yuki knelt down to rest his head against Kyou's shoulder. "You are my friend. I forgive you."

I forgive you.

I forgive you.

I forgive you.

So this was friends. This bittersweet, crazy feeling. This was happinness. After everything, he didn't have to leave at all. Even if none of the zodiac cared for him and his own family rejected him – he was loved. How strange.

I forgive you.


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Miss Honda,

I didn't think there could be anything worse than that dark room. Sometimes the blackness was so thick that I thought I couldn't breathe from it, and sometimes I didn't want to. If you hear things often enough you begin to believe them. I had nothing to distract me from those words. They were worse than my aching feet and spinning head. They came from the silence like ravens, scratching my face and tearing my hair with their talons. Even the brush of their wings made me shiver and hide deeper inside myself.

Could I have survived without that ray of light? Without the solace that, once upon a time, there was someone who needed me?

I was rescued from that place. Not by an angel, but by something better – a good person.

Sometimes I feel as if I don't fit here. As if that room still owns part of me. Sometimes I look at a scene and imagine how natural, how clear it would be without me hanging awkwardly at the edges. Even as I think that I realise how odd it sounds. I tried so hard to remember the rules: to say the right things, to look the right way. But my defenses weren't strong enough to keep you out. Before I realised it I was saying whatever came into my head to you. I said things not because I guessed that you wanted to hear them but because I wanted to say them. It shocked me, hearing my unguarded thoughts for the first time. How did you do that?

It's true that I sometimes wish I could belong more. I'm like a child, wanting more and more, afraid that I left your world too late to understand. I wish that I could act more naturally and laugh more easily. But even though I wish for these things, even though nothing is perfect, I want you to understand how happy I am inside. There is a light inside of me, so fierce and bright that sometimes I am afraid and try to smother it. It never leaves.

There were things far worse than that room. There was you, all alone at New Year's, and Kyou shivering on a dark railway bridge. Did I fail you? I'm sorry.

I want to hear everything: how you feel, what you think, how you are doing. I want to listen, especially when it is hard.

Sometimes the words that I need to say burn so fiercely on my lips, I'm surprised that you don't see them there - but when I try to speak them I tremble. It is only when I see you from a distance that I believe I will one day be ready to explain everything to you – if you want to hear. One day, we will walk together in the sunlight. I hold on to that.

There is one more thing, Miss Honda, if you have just a little more time. One more thing that I want you to know before I jump. If you were ever afraid that you had put me in danger or if you ever will be, I suppose.

Whatever happens, I would rather been thrown into that dark room today, than live in freedom forever without knowing you.

Yuki Sohma.

A thin blond boy lent back from his ornate desk. Night had fallen outside and the fire was dying into embers. Precisely, he cut the thick page - covered in ink - from his black notebook and fed it to the fire. The flames welcomed it hungrily.

Yuki stood on a chair to return his diary to its normal hiding place. He passed a hand over his face, feeling his eyes droop from the late hour. Shigure snored heavily from down the hall and the sky outside shivered, heavy with stars. Shii-chan had long ago accepted that his cousin slept with a bright light on.

The boy struggled to forget his unsaid words as he lay down to another sleepless night.


	3. Chapter 3

Crunch. The sound of feet over frosty earth. The sky was hidden by huge poplar trees, evenly spaced and sinister. Red light cast shapes on the ground.

A muffled sob came, echoing through the trees. Haru turned his head and began to walk towards the sound urgently, breaking in to a run as it faded away. He tripped and fell heavily on the frozen earth, swiping a cut all the way down one leg. Feverishly, he clawed at the unyielding forest floor, searching for a hold. Looking up, Haru felt is heart leap into his mouth.

A tiny girl stood before him, her pale hands shaking in fear. She was not looking at him, but to her left, and her thick hair covered her features to him. It was striped like a zebra: evenly spaced black and white locks reaching past her shoulders. Haru felt huge black tears fall from his eyes as he realised the inevitability of the situation: he would never reach the girl in time. A scream split the air.

When he woke, Haru's hands were clawed tightly into his sheets, his hair heavy with sweat.

He cradled his head in his hands, already forgetting the dream. Only one girl held his thoughts now.

With her. Without her. Life and death. He shook all over for a minute, wondering whether he would ever be able to move. The doorbell forced him to.

The gift was wrapped in black silk. A plain tag hung from the ribbon: "Happy birthday, HatsuHaru". He did not recognise the script. Closing his eyes for a minute to push away the urge to hurl the stupid thing out the window, he opened it up carefully.

A gray guitar lay in the silk. The ends of the strings were uncut and messy. It was such a solid thing, filling up the room – he couldn't ignore it. Gingerly, Haru picked the guitar up and rested it in his arms. He ran his hands over its sleek sides without thinking, finally pulling it closer and testing a sting. The sound from it buzzed all the way through him, electrifying.

He tried a strum, tugging his thumb over all of the open strings. The chord was horrendous. Grinning, he imagined Rin's expression of distaste. Somehow the pain stayed a little way away, as if he was shielded from it. Strange.

Haru spent his birthday crouched in the kitchen, playing until blisters covered his hands.


End file.
